Starting a fire with sticks

Was a Batsuit expensive?

Yes.

Very expensive.

A graphite helmet cost a million dollars, a retinal projection system ten thousand, carbon-fiber reinforcement $1,150, a memory-fabric polymer cape forty thousand...

Even the most basic Batsuit and equipment cost well over a million dollars.

And since this mission was at sea, with the possibility of encountering opponents with mutant abilities, Bruce had chosen Battle Armor incorporating new technology specifically designed to counter those abilities. Its price was several times higher still.

Looking at the guilt in the girl's eyes, Bruce smiled, untroubled.

"It's really fine. I have a little money to my name, so don't worry about it. Besides," Bruce said, waving the pearl in his hand at Miaomiao, "haven't you already given me a gift?"

"A gift is a gift. It can't count as compensation."

Miaomiao pulled a miserable face. She really hadn't thought that much about it at the time.

Merfolk loved beauty by nature, instinctively drawn to everything beautiful. They especially adored things that were intricate, lavish, brightly colored, and glittering. An all-black color scheme held no appeal for them. So when Miaomiao saw that dark Batsuit, which clashed with their tastes, her first reaction was distaste, and she had been all the quicker to dismantle it.

Taking the armor apart had felt great. Dealing with the aftermath was a nightmare.

Miaomiao only seemed innocent, naive, and lacking in common sense because she had barely interacted with intelligent beings outside her own people. She wasn't actually stupid. Now that she had stepped back from her people's instinctive preferences, she could naturally see that the black Battle Armor might mean something more to her friend than the "ugly shell" she saw.

Bruce, who roamed Gotham every night in an "ugly shell," put on a serious expression as he watched the dejected girl.

"By that reasoning, you saved my life. Shouldn't I give you something to thank you, too? Let me think. What would the life of Gotham's richest man, the head of the Wayne Family, be worth?"

"Huh?" The inexperienced Little Merfolk stared, dumbfounded. "Aren't we friends? Isn't saving you what a friend should do?"

Bruce reached out and ruffled her hair, thick as seaweed, his voice gentle.

"In that case, no more talk of compensation."

In truth, Bruce was currently more interested in the girl's ability to dismantle the Batsuit with her bare hands than in the suit's unfortunate destruction.

Probing questions and leading remarks hovered on his tongue before he swallowed them. Faced with the girl's utterly transparent, clear eyes, Bruce finally decided to set aside every interrogation technique and simply ask.

"Miaomiao, can you tell me how you managed to take that... shell suit apart?"

How had she managed it?

Miaomiao didn't quite understand. She held out her little claws and demonstrated with gestures. "Just... like this. Crack, crack! And it came apart."

Bruce looked at the pale, tender little hands in front of him, which were even slightly chubby, and fell silent.

"Bruce?" Miaomiao tilted her head in confusion.

"Miaomiao, may I take a closer look at your hands?"

"Of course."

Without the slightest hesitation, Miaomiao held out her hands.

There were no instruments here, so Bruce could only rely on his knowledge and experience to assess them.

Outwardly, the girl's hands were no different from an ordinary person's. Perhaps because she spent so much time in the water, her skin looked even softer than that of most teenage girls, like an infant's skin, without the slightest trace of wear.

Only the ten fingertips stood out. Her lustrous nails were pointed and translucent, shimmering with the same blue-to-purple gradient as her tail.

Bruce tried to touch the tip of one of her nails with his finger, but Miaomiao swiftly pulled her hand back.

"Sorry. That was rude of me."

"No, it's not because of that," Miaomiao explained. "My nails are very sharp. You'd hurt your hand. And they might be poisonous to your kind. If you want to know how hard they are and how much damage they can do..."

Miaomiao looked around, casually picked up a rock from the beach, and gave it a gentle squeeze. The fist-sized rock shattered, its pieces falling to the ground.

Bruce's gaze darkened.

The strength the girl displayed, so at odds with her appearance, kept forcing him to revise his understanding. The file labeled "Miaomiao" in his mind continued to fill with new information.

While they talked, the sun gradually sank below the horizon. The sky soon darkened, and the temperature around them dropped rapidly.

Bruce's Batsuit accounted for almost every possible contingency, and his Utility Belt was fully equipped. Unfortunately, Miaomiao's little pointed claws had reduced them to scraps in a few strokes, leaving them to rest forever on the seabed.

Now, aside from the white shirt and athletic shorts he wore, Bruce didn't even have a nail knife.

In his younger years, Bruce had traveled the world, seeking out masters and learning from them. Snowy mountains, deserts, jungles, even prisons-he had experienced every kind of harsh environment.

The island Miaomiao had found wasn't particularly large. It was crescent-shaped, high in the middle and low around the edges, with abundant vegetation.

Bruce surveyed his surroundings and soon found some dry branches and moss.

He dug a small pit in a dry spot, stripped off the dead leaves, and loosely placed them in the pit with the dry moss. Then he held a relatively straight stick upright against a piece of wood and rapidly rolled it between his palms. The heat from the rapid friction produced fine charred dust at that point. At just the right moment, he tipped the dust into the prepared tinder and blew carefully.

If the materials, angle, and timing were all right, the tinder would quickly catch. Small twigs could then be added little by little, followed by thicker branches and logs once the flames were burning properly.

This was the most primitive way of starting a fire with sticks. It was simple, convenient, and required no other tools, but demanded suitable materials and considerable stamina. Missing the moment to ignite the tinder, or blowing at even a slightly wrong angle or strength, could undo all the effort.

Fortunately, Bruce had plenty of experience, and Batman's stamina was more than sufficient. He succeeded on his first attempt.

Before night had fully fallen, a warm campfire burned on the beach, driving away the cold and darkness. Bruce ringed it with stones to keep the flames from spreading accidentally, then got up to find more dry branches.

The difference between daytime and nighttime temperatures on the island was considerable, and nocturnal animals might appear. A campfire was one of the most important necessities for survival.

Miaomiao watched the dancing flames curiously. They felt completely different from seawater. Up close, they were even warmer than sunlight on her skin, making her fingers itch to reach out.

Just as she gave in and extended her little claws toward the flames, Bruce returned with firewood and caught her red-handed.

=͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇)!!

"Miaomiao! Stop!"

Guiltily, Miaomiao immediately withdrew her little claws and blinked her big, watery eyes, looking utterly innocent.

"Miaomiao, fire is dangerous. You can't..."

"I'm sorry! I know I was wrong. Can you forgive me just this once? I promise I won't do it again!"

Miaomiao clasped her hands in front of her chest and gazed pitifully at Bruce. Her voice held a young girl's distinctive sweetness and softness, like a pink puff of cotton candy.

Bruce, who had been about to lecture her, suddenly found himself at a loss for words.